We Are Oft To Blame In This,

Nay Then, Let The Devil Wear Black, For I'll Have A Suit Of Sables.

Bassanio: Do All Men Kill All The Things They Do Not Love? Shylock: Hates Any Man The Thing He Would Not Kill? Bassanio: Every Offence Is Not A Hate At First.

Romeo: Courage, Man; The Hurt Cannot Be Much. Mercutio: No, 'tis Not So Deep As A Well, Nor So Wide As A Church-door; But 'tis Enough, 'twill Serve. Ask For Me Tomorrow, And You Shall Find Me A Grave Man.

Love Runs Away From Those Chasing Her, And Those Who Run Away, She Throws Herself On His Neck.

So Doth The Greater Glory Dim The Less: A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By.